


Regret

by QueenBuzzle



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Aging, Baby, F/M, Family, Gen, Illness, Regret
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-22
Updated: 2016-08-22
Packaged: 2018-08-10 11:03:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7842373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenBuzzle/pseuds/QueenBuzzle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Neville visits his Gran in her care facility, where she meets her great grandchild for the first time. He ponders his regrets.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Regret

**Author's Note:**

> it's a lil weirdly written, but it's the first thing i've written in soooo long...it feels good...

**Regret**

“Gran,” Neville called lowly, knocking once on the half-opened door before entering. He carefully pushed it back to its semi-closed position, turning gently with the precious bundle on his arm as he made his way around the corner and into the room.

Several times before this he'd come alone, and sometimes his Gran had been awake and sometimes she'd been asleep. There was no telling beforehand, short of Flooing to St. Florence to see.

St. Florence was an elder care facility in London, established shortly after the war when an up-and-coming Healer found there were too many disabled elders to comfortably house in St. Mungo's anymore. It was the sad truth that Augusta Longbottom had been aging gracelessly for years—the result of the selective inbreeding her ancestors had partaken in before her marriage into House Longbottom. Even though she was relatively young for a witch, only in her seventies, her mind and body had been slowly failing since Neville was a young boy.

It'd been hard to place her in St. Florence rather than care for her himself, but Hannah had convinced him: since he was working at Hogwarts and she, managing the Leaky Cauldron, preparing for future ownership, and caring for her pregnant belly.... well. They really didn't have the time to devote to her.

Don't get him wrong—he loved his Gran. She'd raised him. Though it had taken her years to stop forcing his dad's legacy upon him, she eventually eased up and he'd liked her a lot better then. The borderline abuse (okay, full-out abuse in some cases) he'd faced at her hands and his relatives' hands was in the past...and he'd gotten over it.

But while he loved her, he didn't particularly _like_ her. She'd done a lot of unforgivable things in the name of her son, rather than focusing on her son's son like she should have. That was another reason he found it pretty easy to be cajoled into letting her stay in St. Florence.

As he rounded the corner he saw her hobbling to her bed from the window seat. London had many pretty sites but as this facility was in WizardSpace, her window overlooked an enchanted park with one too many butterflies, a pond, and too-green grass. Nevertheless she loved to look down upon it. Occasionally she'd spy other wildlife: squirrels, foxes, rabbits, deer. She even swore she saw a bear once.

“My Neville,” she said, her voice wavering with age. “Have you finally brought—?” she gasped when her eyes fell upon the wrapped bundle in his arms.

She made it to her bed and tucked her legs up, scooting in with an ease he hadn't seen from her in a very, very long time. Her fingers twiddled in her lap and she eyed the bundle in his arms almost hungrily.

Neville's heart hurt a little. He and Hannah had agreed they wouldn't bring their infant to see his Gran until Dragonpox season had passed and he was old enough to get his inoculations. Now Auggie was six months old already, and she'd scarcely seen pictures of him.

“Here,” he said a bit thickly, regretting that he hadn't made more of an effort to bring his Gran pictures and stories. He made his way over to the bed and handed over the sleeping child. “He was a bit cranky today, but we'll see how it goes.”

Augusta was clearly not strong enough to hold Auggie up, so she left him reclined in her lap, head by her knees, and fluttered her hands around his body. “He's big,” she whispered. The wavering was more pronounced now. “He's got so much hair.”

Auggie's sweet little cheeks were pink and chubby, and when she rubbed a wrinkled knuckle over one, he turned and sighed in his sleep.

Neville looked away from the scene, mixed feelings in his chest. In one corner of the room was a tall coat rack and atop it was his Gran's favorite vulture hat. It brought many bad memories from his school years and he looked away as his throat burned.

There were so many reasons to dislike his Gran. So many reasons to whisk his child away from her and never look back...

But she'd raised him. Even through the grief of her son and beloved daughter-in-law, she'd raised him. Even if problematically. Even if he was obese as a child, had mild anxiety he'd never overcome, and had to relearn magic after finally getting his own wand...she'd tried. And she'd instilled values and lessons he still profited from today. She had berated his Uncle Algie after that incident when he was eight, though she hadn't stopped him.

He had very many mixed feelings.

He'd named his son August Francis, after the woman who raised him and the man who never could've. Hannah had suggested it. She was a good woman, and had many wise words to say about his Gran. She'd waxed poetic about how family is not everything but it is something, and how if he wanted to cut ties she'd support him, but also that he still had blood family after the war and that meant something.

He'd tried to explain the years of abuse—how it made so many decisions harder, and how he didn't want that for their children.

“Do you hate her?” Hannah had asked quietly.

“No, but—” Neville had started.

“Do you hate the person you've become?”

“No!”

“She hurt you,” Hannah had murmured. Her hand was on her belly and she rubbed it every so often. “She did very bad things to you. But you love her. That doesn't excuse it,” she added quickly. “I'd never say that she's excused. But...you're an adult now. You've grown past it, and you've gone through worse things now. The abuse will always be there in your past. You may never like your Gran, and you may never forgive her...but your conscience is clean. You've tried. Do what you need to do, Nev. I'll be here in the aftermath.”

It'd taken him three weeks before he went to his Gran. They'd had a long conversation about— _everything._ She'd tried to excuse herself but he wouldn't let her, she'd made excuses for long enough.

They talked about how he'd grown up in a shadow of her son's life. His _dad's_ life. The father he never got to know, but was forced to behave like. How she had allowed others, and even herself, to say nasty things about him. How she'd never stood up for him and had allowed Algie to do terrible things in the name of proving he had magic. And how she never apologized. Never.

He'd told her about Auggie—though at that time they hadn't known the gender nor the name they'd be giving the baby. How he was going to be a dad and that, if she didn't change, they'd have to go separate ways. How it hurt him to think that he may have to be done with her for the sake of his child.

She had cried. Oh she had cried. She had blubbered about how she only wanted the best for him and knew she'd made awful, horrid mistakes in the past. And she was sorry, so sorry, and if she could do it over again she would.

Their relationship was rocky after that. He visited her every week but they were short and to the point. He brought her “outside” food—Butterbeer and tiny bottles of Firewhiskey and Cauldron Cakes and chocolates. He brought her clothes to wear rather than the hospital scrubs and gowns. They'd discussed Auggie sometimes, but usually he was rushing off.

He felt regret now. Regret for not trying harder. She was better now, and though Hannah was right and her actions would never be forgiven, he could get past it. It'd taken a long time, but he was proud to say that he _could._

But he'd never met her halfway afterwards. He'd put on a semblance of a show, pretending to try but always running off to whatever he thought was better use of his time.

He should've done better. He vowed that, in the future, he _would_ do better.

 

Neville was drawn out of his reminiscing by soft words. He came back to himself and focused on his Gran, watching her lips move and almost wondering if he was making the words up.

“Auggie...my August Francis...oh how I've longed to meet you. I know it was for your health, oh yes, I remember how easily babies come down with sickness, but Great Gran is so happy to finally meet you. I'm doing my best to stay well so I can watch you grow for at least a few years...”

“Gran?” Neville asked, surprised at her words.

She looked up at him with a wry sort of smile, ignoring his concern. “He doesn't look like you, you know,” she commented idly. Ice plummeted into his chest and for a moment he thought she was being nasty. “He looks like your dad.”

Neville gave a surprised laugh and studied his son. He himself was blond, as was Hannah, but Auggie was brunette. The baby had brown eyes—inherited from Frank through Neville—and his narrow but chubby face was also inherited from Frank. Both Hannah and Neville had rounder faces as children. They'd both grown into it—though still round, they weren't chubby.

Auggie definitely looked like Frank.

“He does, doesn't he?” Neville admitted, sitting on the edge of the bed. “We hope to take Auggie to visit mum and dad soon.”

Augusta nodded sternly and coddled the child some more. “He's so big,” she repeated. “You were a small baby, but Frank was big too. It's very...disconcerting. It reminds me of being young.”

Neville swallowed a little. “I can't imagine—being a dad now, I mean. Going through what you did.”

Augusta didn't look at him, focusing on Auggie, who was now waking up from his nap. “It was very—very hard. You know, I didn't think I'd ever get through it. I didn't for a long time. I regret the decisions I made in the past, holding on so tightly to lost hopes. It was foolish, and I'm only glad you turned out the way you did...I imagine Frank and Alice would be very, very proud of you.”

Auggie gurgled and shoved himself into a sitting position. He peered around himself curiously and giggled in delight when he saw his dad.

“I'm so proud of you,” Augusta whispered.

Neville looked up in shock and met his Gran's gaze. His eyes misted over and he swallowed.

“Thank you,” he responded, quietly.

Auggie shrieked happily, playing with his own feet.

Yes, Neville decided, emotions roiling about his being. He'd have to try much harder in the future.

 


End file.
